Page 5 of Dahlia Made A List

Did his new girlfriend know he hadn’t split with me before he started crashing with her? Not that it was any of my business anymore. Despite my disappointment in myself, a little weight lifted from my shoulders.

“Yeah,” I said when he looked up from his cell. “Seems to work just fine. So you could have called me last night, let me know things weren’t working out for you. Or, even better, could have looked me in my face and said something before you left yesterday. No hard feelings. Life goes on.”

My mantra for too many years.Life goes on. It is what it is. Keep on pushing. I swallowed past a too-dry throat and vowed to remove the sayings from my vocabulary.

“What are you even talking about, Dahlia?”

The hulk of a man behind me shifted. I didn’t look. The force of his presence was strong enough to overshadow the drama playing out with my ex. I borrowed a little of his formidable presence.

“Life goes on, Brandon. Be a decent person, collect your crap, andgo on.”

“But where am I supposed to go?”

My gaze dipped to his phone, then up to his face. “That is no longer my concern.”

Chapter Two

Wyatt

Mytenant,andtheonly authorized resident of 26 Redbud Lane, flew up the exterior side stairs to the second story apartment, her lacy skirt swishing around the tops of her thighs. I could probably set my chin on the top of her head, but her legs looked a mile long as she disappeared upstairs.

If she made a habit of walking to work every day, those legs of hers reaped the dividends. Not that I had any business eyeing a tenant’s legs. Couldn’t remember a time when I’d wanted to. But then, I’d never had a tenant like Dahlia Whitcombe before.

The French doors leading to the balcony of the second floor swung wide, and she stood in the opening, looking down on the progress of the pretty boy as he snatched pale blue boxers out of Ms. Lester’s azaleas. I’d be hearing from Ms. Lester about the violation of her precious azaleas soon, of that I had no doubt.

I settled back against the side of my Silverado. Despite today’s packed schedule, I lingered in front of the rental. I didn’t like the look of the guy cramming a box into the twenty-year-old Volkswagen Golf parked between my truck and Ms. Lester’s immaculate Honda SUV. I also didn’t like that Dahlia Whitcombe had changed the locks on my property. Though eyeing Pretty Boy, I figured I understood her reasoning.

But still, I didn’t like the interruption to my day. Not one bit.

When my phone dinged, I leaned forward and pulled the cell out of my back pocket and swiped to accept the call. “Yup.”

Millsy giggled. “You got that from granddad.”

I had. “Grams sign whatever needed signing last night?”

My cousin sighed, loud and long. “Not exactly.”

“Then what’s going on, Miller?” Tension pulled taut between my shoulders.

“I met Grams for dinner last night, just as she requested.” Millsy blurted out her words, rushing to give me a half-assed explanation. “Gave her the papers, explained you’d already signed your part. She tucked them in that big bag of hers without even looking them over and said she wanted to read everything when she got home. That she’d get them back to me this morning.”

My cousin heaved another theatrical sigh. I gripped the phone and waited her out.Patience. Let her get to her point.

“So I took her some of those maple and peanut croissants from Sugar Squared—her favorites, right? I figured breakfast couldn’t hurt. Added it to your expenses.”

“‘Course you did.” It was the Pendleton way. Our mothers were sisters. Mine married a Weston; hers a Pendleton. They could suck blood from a rock, even if the rock was a relation.

“Anyway, she says she’s decided not to sell the drive-in, after all.”

I tightened my fingers around the phone and I bit down on my tongue. Millsy didn’t need me cursing in her ear. If thirty years of family summer picnics and holiday dinners had taught me anything, it was that while Millsy made me crazy, she didn’t have a malicious bone in her body. “Did she say why?”

“Said she would talk to you about it when you came by tonight.”

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. The curse of a crafty grandmother. “Is that right.” Resignation in my voice, not question.

“Guessing that’s news to you, huh, Wy?”

“Millsy, straight up, did you try to add something shady to the contract?”

---